


let the jameson sink in

by dizzy



Series: byebye 20gayteen daily fic advent [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: prompt:Phil gets drunk with Marianne





	let the jameson sink in

Phil is three drinks past what should have been bed time, but as Dan will point out to anyone that cares to listen, sometimes Phil's not the best when left to his own devices. 

Not that he's unsupervised right now. He's got a minder with him. It just happens that she's at least five drinks past what probably should have been bed time, and currently three minutes deep into a story that Phil should probably be tuning back into. 

His lack of attention isn't because the company isn't appreciated, or entertaining enough. His mind just... wanders. She finishes talking and luckily a nod seems like the appropriate response. 

Or she's drunk enough that it just doesn't matter. 

"Where'd-" She looks around, frowning. Her hair's come half undone from the bun it was in earlier, a mess of long brown that frames her face. It's pretty in an inelegant sort of way. Phil wonders what hair that long would be like; even in his Viking days he didn't go quite that far. But his hair is too straight anyway, Dan's would do more fun things. He tries to picture Dan with long hair and ends up grinning into the dredges of his drink. 

Dan with long hair, and that soft face, and his dimple. 

"Where'd everyone go?" She asks, finally getting her sentence out. 

She seems genuinely confused, like she hadn't even registered the last round of goodbyes ten minutes ago, though Phil knows for a fact she hugged at least one person goodbye as they leaned over the chair she was sat in. 

"Bed," Phil says. 

It's where they should probably be themselves. Morning will come far too early, a long trek to the airport with lots of noises and smells and a sense of urgency their hangovers won't approve of. 

He remembers back when they first started working together. They hadn't had nearly as much a problem with the day-later regrets. Now they swap tablets and headache remedies while Dan mocks them for their geriatric metabolism. 

She blows her fringe out of her face. "Children and their bedtimes." 

He could sleep, he thinks. 

But the hotel bar still has life to it. He's not sure why but tonight he's enjoying feeling like a part of something. 

The waitress comes by, a fresh drink for both of them. They hadn't requested it, but they both take them. 

"Last one," he says, then raises it. "Then I'm done for." 

"I was done for an hour ago," she says, and raises her own. 

The glasses clink a little too violently. Phil's fingers are sticky and wet when he pulls them back, and he sucks the sugary alcohol off. His eyes flutter shut. Dan does this sometimes, picks up his fingers and sucks on them. Secretly he finds it a bit silly but it's always hot in the moment, and he'd never laugh at Dan trying to be sexy because it usually means he's about to get his dick touched. 

He briefly thinks about saying goodnight now, and going to wake Dan up. But Dan doesn't get enough sleep on a good night, and sex when only one of them is drunk always feels a little off - especially when the one that's drunk is Phil. His mind betrays him as he sobers up; he gets anxious in his mind about it, if he's been too ridiculous, if Dan's just humoring him. 

He'll let Dan sleep, he decides. He can always have a wank in the shower in the morning, or if he wakes up in time maybe even coax Dan into it as well.

Marianne is staring at instagram on her phone when his vision refocuses. "I swear," she says, "these ads get more and more ridiculous. It's like they know how single I am; I had one for a bloody personal massager the other day. How's that even allowed, aren't there are advertising standards? I know social media is the wild west of adverts, but really - a personal massager." 

Phil snickers and thinks of the pickle that's probably found a new home gathering dust under the bed he doesn't sleep in. "I think they're funny." 

"What sort do you get, then?" She asks. 

"I had one for lube," he says. "That came in a 55-gallon barrel." 

He'd never say this sober. He'd never sit at a table with another adult he has a professional working association with and discuss lube. Dan would with no shame - but not Phil.

She whistles under her breath. "Bet that runs you one." 

"Runs me one what?" Phil asks. 

She seems confused by the question, concentrating on remembering what she'd just said. "Pound. Pounds. I bet you'd have to splash out for that." 

"Maybe for Dan's next birthday. Imagine that coming in the post, though?" His laughter catches on; she ends up cackling into her drink.

"You'd catch your neighbour trying to lift it, dragging a whole barrel down the street-"

"What if it spilled!" 

It's not even that funny but they both have tears in their eyes by the time they catch their breath again. 

"Oh, Christ." She sits back, hand on her heart. "Thank you, Phil. I've needed this." 

He has no idea why, he realized. He doesn't know much about her life outside of what she does when they're working. He has a moment of concern at what that means about him, who he is as a person; didn't he care more, when he was younger? Didn't he care about other people? Didn't he have more friends he kept up with? Now he knows what he sees on facebook and the occasional chat over a drink. 

Life seems to have narrowed the older he's gotten. He has priorities; his priority is Dan, and their future. 

He opens his mouth to ask that question: why? Why did you need this? What's going on in your life, what are your problems, how can I help? But the question turns into a yawn, and she laughs at him then reaches out to pat his hand. "Alright. I think that's us done in." 

He looks down at her hand on his, slender fingers and manicured nails in a bright design. She's lovely, he thinks, with a passive kind of awareness. That sort of lovely's never done much for him personally, but he appreciates it. He appreciates her. He'll ask tomorrow, he thinks. 

*

Dan's starfished across half the bed when Phil stumbles in, head swimming full of promises and sentiments already half-forgotten. He strips down to his pants and moans at the bliss of the pillow under his head and a heavy blanket over his body. 

"Shut up," Dan mumbles, turning and seeking Phil out. He narrows the space between them but not completely, content with just his head nearer to Phil's on the pillow and their legs with a few small movements of touching. 

He's back asleep almost immediately, ignorant to Phil's stupid grin. "You'll take care of me in the morning?" 

Dan snorts. It means _yes, of course_ and also _but I'll aggressively take the piss while I do it_ and also _go the fuck to sleep_. 

So Phil does.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, you can reblog it on tumblr here!


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